


Achievement Unlocked

by seer_of_void (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Established Relationship, How not to play Pokemon, M/M, Oral Sex, nerds, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/seer_of_void
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“See who can level up faster in your favorite video game while the other person is going down on them.”</i><br/>-Cosmo Magazine, Dec. '11</p><p>Two-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Your palms are sweating as you grasp your DS in shaking hands. You swallow. Your trembling fingers can barely manage to press the d-pad to move your character forward. In a few seconds, you’re going to cross the threshold into Mt. Silver, Land of No Return. Arceus help you.

The couch creases and you give a start, fumbling and nearly dropping the DS. You look up, panicked, only to see the grinning face and shining glasses of one John Egbert, bad-timing boyfriend extraordinaire.

“Christ, John,” you say, voice coming out breathier than you expected. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. This shit’s seriously intense.”

“Hmm,” John intones, crawling over you to look upside-down at the game. “What’s up?”

“Beating the shit out of Red and becoming the next Pokemon Master is what’s up,” you say, pulling the DS closer to your face so that he can’t look. “Fuck off for a while, okay?” John shifts back on the couch, and you relax— as much as you can when you’re bracing yourself for the Pokemon battle of your life, that is. You check on your party— all of them fully healed, including BALLSACKS, your practically-invincible level 100 Feraligatr. Shit, yeah, you got this.

…Is what you thought, but then you feel a hand cupping your crotch. You gasp and start forward. John  _hadn’t_  left like you thought he had.

“What the fuck are you—”

“Shhhh,” he says, unbuttoning your pants and tugging down your fly. “Just play your game, dude.” Reluctantly, you drop your gaze back to the game. Shit, you must have pressed A when you spazzed. Red greets you with a line of ellipses and the music suddenly becomes fucking intense.

John traces the shape of your dick in your boxers— fuck him, you’re half-hard already— just as he sends out his level 88 Pikachu, and BALLSACKS has a type disadvantage. Fuck.

He unbuttons your boxers and pulls your cock out, lazily stroking it to full—  _eat Earthquake, bitch_. It dies in one hit. John leans forward, wraps his lips around you, and you fucking  _whimper_  deep in your throat. Next Pokemon: Venusaur. Better switch.

Lopunny is a stupid piece of shit Pokemon, but this one is named  _Liv Tyler_  and if it’s not already obvious, John traded it to you. It’s  _shiny_. It’s  _pink_. It’s also  _male_ , making it the gayest Pokemon in existence— so says the guy whose boyfriend is currently sucking him off. You’re a goddamn hypocrite. Your cursor has been hovering at the FIGHT PARTY ITEM RUN menu for about a minute now, staring at the words but not reading them as John’s tongue traces around the head of your cock. Get your shit together, Dave.

You try to select Fire Punch, but just then he decides to take you completely into his mouth. You slip and pick Agility instead, and Venusaur wallops you with one hell of a solarbeam. Liv faints and John moves his head up and down, taking as much of you as he can, but  _fuck_ you are not watching him you have a _battle_  to win and he just cost you a Pokemon, the jackass.

You send out DAVESTRIDE the Honchkrow. John ridiculed you for naming a Pokemon after yourself (and then running out of letters), but you figure if there’s any Pokemon to name after yourself, it’s gotta be the badass pimp mafia crow. John reaches his other hand into your boxers and cups your balls and you let out a shuddering gasp. No. No, you are not letting him win, this is  _your_  battle, goddamnit. Aerial ace. Wait, no, that move sucks!! Venusaur shrugs it off and curbstomps the shit out of your ironic Pokesona. Fuck.  _Everything_. BALLSACKS it is again, you taught him Ice Fang, this should be a piece of cake.

John hums around you, tongue teasing your slit, and you nearly lose it just then. Ice fang.  _Ice Fang_. You can do thi— you just picked Surf. Jegus christ on a cracker, fuck your idiot asshole boyfriend and his idiot asshole blowjobs. The attack amounts to little more than a mosquito bite as Venusaur Frenzy Plants your face. Your Pokemon’s face.

…No, wait, BALLSACKS is still alive by a sliver! It’s a PokeMiracle! John’s tongue massages the underside of your cock and you try and select Ice Fang, for real this time although your vision is hazy and you’re shaking with lust and you can’t quite tell whether you actually picked the right move or not. Your heart gives a triumphant leap into your throat as the message “BALLSACKS used ICE FANG!” appears.

…But it missed!

“Ffffffffuckk,” you try to swear but it comes out more of a groan. You can’t handle this. You literally cannot. The heat of John’s mouth around your dick is way too much for you right now, you can’t, you can’t. BALLSACKS falls to Venusaur’s next attack, and then all you have left are your underleveled HM slaves.

…Shit, you remembered to buy revives, right? You glance down at John, whose gaze is fixed on you, blue eyes half-lidded as he bobs his head up and down, up and down, making these goddamn fucking distracting sexy noises like a girl in a porno, which of course he is, he’s your girl in your personal porno and fuck it, you’re not even thinking straight anymore.

Two more of your ‘mons fall like dominoes and you shudder and whimper with every suck. His deft pianist’s fingers stroke the insides of your thighs and push your shirt up to rub across your skin almost reverentially, and this all seems so much like foreplay and goddamn, John, you love him so much, you love him even when he does shit like this when you’re  _trying to play Pokemon_  goddamnit Egbert shit fuck you love him so much and the heat of his mouth around you is just too much, too much and an involuntary shudder makes you slip up yet again as he pushes you over the edge.

You white out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for homophobic slurs. (Ever played an online game before? That's what I'm talking about.)

You wait. You stalk his calendar, skirting around the times when he would expect you, or the times when it was convenient for him. No. Hell no. You are Dave Strider and you are going to get your _revenge_ , dammit, and not until you have the perfect opportunity to do so.

So you wait, and you watch, and in time, your patience pays off.

John’s door is closed. At first you think he’s jerking off, but a quick reality check reminds you that wouldn’t make any sense: he’s got  _you_ , after all. You press your ear to the crack in the door, listening intently.

“Hahaha, dude, seriously?” he laughs. Your breath catches. How did he  _know_? You had your 100% effective pattened TM Strider Stealth going, how—

“—You know, if you’re gonna trashtalk like that, you better have the skills to back it up, noob.”

Oh, yes. Oh hell to the yes. He’s playing COD. This is exactly what you hoped. You reach up and turn the doorknob as slowly and silently as you can, ease your way into the room, and close it behind you. Gunshots sound from the TV as he chatters away into the mic about kill streaks and headshots and ‘nade switching, completely oblivious to your presence. The angry voices of the other players are a constant backdrop; you can almost picture the red-faced teenagers on the other side,  _this close_  to throwing their controllers through their TV.

“Yeah, but if I’m such a faggot, why is it that  _you’re_  the one getting fucked?” John asks, fingers clicking away madly as he scopes out, in, locks on to a distant enemy and fires, jerking the controller triumphantly as if it’s a real gun with real kickback. God, he’s such a dork, but if the flurry of furious swearing from his speakers indicates anything, he really does back up his words with actions.

Well. Those assholes are going to thank you for what you’re about to do.

You slide into view to the side of the TV. His gaze flicks towards you and his eyes widen a little, but he is disappointingly not as surprised to see you as you’d hoped. He lifts a hand off the controller to give you a brief wave, then his eyes immediately snap back to the TV screen. Oh  _hell_  no, he is not brushing you off that easily.

You take a step sideways, so you’re standing in front of the TV, blocking his view. He leans over and cranes his neck to try and see the screen,  _still_  not acknowledging you. You cross your arms. Finally, he relents. Using one hand to cover his mic, he hisses, “very funny, I see you, now can you  _move_? I’m trying to kick some ass over here.”

You shrug and bend down. He shifts back to his regular seated position and continues ignoring you.

“It was nothing, just my asshole of a frien—  _oh shit_ ,” he says as you kneel and reach for his zipper. You look up at him over your shades, one eyebrow quirked. A challenge.

“N-no,” he says, eyes snapping back to the TV. “No, it’s nothing. Cover my ass, I’m running to the next safezone.” You unbutton his pants and drag his zipper down. As you palm him through his briefs, his breath catches in his throat.

“ _Asshole_ ,” he mutters, then says louder, “yeah, asshole, teach you right to try and shank me. Thanks ff— thanks for covering my back, bro.” You push his shirt up, run your fingers over his hipbones and the fuzz of his happy trail, then lean in to press a kiss to his clothed cock. John twitches, but keeps his voice level as he snipes three guys from afar while making questioning comments about their mothers. Frankly, you’re impressed, but you’re also determined. You slowly, carefully lick all the way up his clothed dick, from tip to base.

“Ngh,” he mutters, a small noise in the back of his throat and a tiny frown on his face, but it’s  _there_ , and you’re not even started yet. You hook your fingers under his waistband and pull it down; he’s not halfway hard yet but you’ll make quick work of that, breathing hot down his length as you lick the top of his dick again. When you wrap a hand around him and give him a good, solid stroke, he nearly drops his controller.

“Fuck you.” You pump faster, licking your palm for some extra lubrication, bringing him to full hardness without much difficulty. “K-killjank. You’ll, nnnh, pay for that.”

“Yo, EB, you jerkin’ it? Gross,” one of the other guys asks.

“ _Say no_ ,” you whisper, too quiet for the mic to pick up but loud enough for him to hear, just before taking the head into your mouth.

“Nnnuh, no,” he says, voice sliding up an octave. “H-how would I— I need both hands to play— don’t I?”

“Yo, dude, maybe his girlfriend’s giving him a handjob,” another voice says, and then “oh, shit! How’d he get the grenade launcher?” You smile around him and take more into your mouth. Honestly, you’re not sure what you like better: his reactions, or the other guys’, and how dangerously close to the money they are.

“No, hey, what if, what if it’s his  _boyfriend_  that’s sucking his dick,” says a thick voice. “Heh heh.”

You freeze. Laughter, and catcalls of “fag” come from over the speakers; John’s knuckles grip white around the controller. No. No, you’ve got this all under control; you suppress your gag reflex and take him all the way to his base and then back up again, in one smooth motion. John shudders, but you hear his fingers clicking on the controller, and then a series of explosions onscreen. Shouts of anger and dismay echo from all sides; John lets out a shaky moan, the noise of everyone shouting covering him up.

“You fucking faggot, you fragged me when my back was turned!”

“Yeah, it’s called— hhh— being fucking awesome at— at this game— and the fact that you, nnh, suck,” John says. “How’s your, nh, kill-to-death ratio now, bitch?”

“You know, EB, even if you’re being kinda creepy with the heavy breathing and stuff, I just wanna let you know I’m glad you’re on my side,” says another voice.

John breathes in to try to thank him, but it catches in his throat. You use your tongue to massage the bottom of his cock and he tries to turn his moans into a strangled cough, with varying degrees of success. (One of the things that you like about John is how vocal he is; after growing up with Bro who hid all his emotions behind shades, it’s nice to actually be able to tell what someone is feeling for once. You also like it because of shit like this.)

Meanwhile, you can sense the growing distress and confusion of the other players. John’s dialogue devolves into a string of swears; he’s not capable of forming complete sentences anymore, and the effort of holding in his moans is making his whole body tremble. He looks irresistibly sexy from this angle, eyes screwed almost shut, mouth wide and nearly gasping, face flushed a luminous red behind his glasses. Revenge is sweet, cold, and delicious.

…Only, against all odds, he’s  _still playing his game_. His controller movements are jerky, and his movements are fumbling and hesitant, but you hear more explosions and more swearing and no, you will not have this, you will not have this. Taking him in as deep as you possibly can, you hum around his dick as you rub circles on his hipbones and that’s all it takes, he’s coming in your mouth and then on your face and all over your shades, with a wordless cry that he could never, ever in a million years pass off as something else.

For an incredible moment, there is nothing but silence. You take this chance to crawl on top of him, draped over the back of the couch in a trembling, post-orgasmic mess, and french kiss him deeply, letting him taste himself on your tongue.

Another explosion sounds from the game, and finally someone asks, “What the fuck?”

Seeing as John isn’t in any state to be talking right now, you answer for him. “Hi, this is Dave,” you say, mouthing the words against his lips, “and this guy just owned you all while I, his boyfriend, sucked him off. Does he get an achievement for that?” Sensing that John is trying to say something, you silence him with your mouth again as the match timer ticks to zero.

John’s team, of course, wins.

(And he gets an achievement.)


End file.
